historia
by saaifione
Summary: It's both a short and long journey to falling in love. Worse when it's a courtship as violent as theirs. The Nordics, Densu.


**Title:** historia  
**Series:** Axis Powers Hetalia  
**Rating:** T

**Summary: **It's both a short and long journey to falling in love. Worse when it's a courtship as violent as theirs. The Nordics, Densu.

i.e. In which Sweden is awkward at showing his love when he acknowledges it, and an outright disaster when he doesn't.

**Disclaimer:** Hetalia is not mine. Neither is history.

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**Notes: **Historical fiction, heavy on the fiction. But that's Hetalia?

Haha, I started this...a long time ago, but never got around to finishing it. Some of my notes don't make much sense to me anymore.

(Possibly vastly inaccurate) historical notes are provided at the end. I wasn't certain how obvious some historical references would be to people, but I think I got noted most of them... the story should be readable without them. That being said, if you know your Scandinavian history and Swedish language, you probably don't need to read my notes. In fact, you could probably correct them. ^_^' (Please do.)

* * *

(9th c., _Vikingatiden - Viking Age_)

It is like this before he realizes it. This sense of caution. This sense of distance. This sense of familiarity.

There is a boy to the south with a cocksure smile whose laughter rings high and loud. He hears it in the wind sometimes, when the sea currents bring it in. It rolls like waves and thunder, leaving him dizzy and breathless in its wake.

In winter, when there is nothing else to break the frigid silence, the boy's laughter rings along his coasts, infrequent but unceasing. It is horrible, horrible. (At night, he dreams about it.)

At times the shrieks of seagulls crest above the laughter, shrill and sharp, calling for adventure.

The boy to the south hears it and heads west.

In a world that is flat, he heads east.

.

(1323,_ Nöteborgstraktaten -_ _Treaty of Nöteborg_)

The boy is his but will not look at him. Keeps his eyes fixed to the ground through the entire exchange, so perhaps there is something of interest located there. Sweden tries staring too, but sees only the cracked stonework of the fortress floor. The boy notices his gaze and shifts his glance to another spot, skittering a small distance away.

The boy reminds him of a foal, shaking on fresh legs, which is endearing but also a bit worrying. He is heading the wrong way. To the east lays Novgorod.

"Österland," Sweden calls, but that only causes the boy to bite his lip and furrow his brow, like he doesn't quite understand.

He tries something more familiar.

"S'omi," he says, loudly, but his voice catches over the word and the boy flinches, taking the slightest step back. It probably upsets the boy to hear his language butchered so.

"…Finn?" Sweden tries, uncertainly, for it is the name that some of his people call the other land. It is the name that Denmark calls him.

The boy's head tilts upward enough for him to imagine that the boy is peering at him through his fringe. Progress, then. A name the boy will answer to.

"W're goin', now."

This time the boy jerks forward in the right direction, but his legs are still shaking and his face is still downcast.

He wishes he knew the color of the boy's eyes.

.

(1349, _Digerdöden - Black Death_)

"Go _away_," Norway says, with ice in his voice, but his arms don't hold the same strength as his words. When he tries to push Sweden away his wrists give in and he ends up collapsing into the other instead.

"_No_."

It's more of a grunt than anything but words are less effective than actions. He wraps his arms around the other boy, careful not to cling too tight.

The chamber is cold but Norway is warm. He is, perhaps, too warm.

Sweden adjusts his grip to accommodate a sudden movement; either the boy is trying to struggle or his shivers have gotten worse.

"You're going to get sick," Norway mutters, clasping his hands to his mouth before breaking into a fit of wet coughs. This time, when he pushes Sweden, it is with the outside of his wrists.

"Gonna get sick n'yway," Sweden says, pulling Norway onto his lap.

He avoids mentioning that Iceland and Finland are currently several leagues across the sea, and that he'd rather get sick faster watching over Norway than to not be here at all. Some things are too embarrassing to say.

"Stupid," Norway coughs, weakly, letting himself slump completely into Sweden's shoulder. "Stupid, stupid, _stupid_." And the fact that he can't come up with a sharper retort is perhaps the most worrying thing of all.

"Stupid like Anko."

But he's not, because Denmark is the sort of person to brandish a bouquet of summer flowers as a get-well gift and expect them to work as a cure. He is the type of person to be full of sentiments as childish as they are useless, the type of person to stay longer than he's wanted, but shorter than he's needed.

To the south there are rumors of the plague killing more than half of the population, but if Sweden were worried, he wouldn't say it.

.

(1397, _Kalmarunionen - Kalmar Union_)

"-round," Denmark says, "England called them the knights of the round." His smile is sharp and his chin is proud, for this little scrap of information he's managed to coerce from the other land.

"A round table so all could sit as equals, none higher than the other. Warriors, each great in their own right, serving under one king." He pulls out a cloth then, yellow embellished with a red Nordic cross, and pulls them all close underneath it.

"That could be us," Denmark says. "That _will_be us." And it is stifling beneath the flag.

"I suppose I have to thank you," Norway scowls, "since your delusions always give me something to laugh at." But he doesn't.

Sweden steps forward to dislodge Denmark's hand from his shoulder. He ends up with his nose in Denmark's hair and inhales through his mouth, unable to find the words.

Sharing a king with Norway was one thing, for they could find commonality in their silences, in their lack of expectations in one another. But sharing a king with Denmark would be something else entirely.

It is doomed to fail, Sweden thinks. For their mutual stubbornness. For their unfailing pride. For the burning in his chest whenever Denmark comes close, throwing his arm around Sweden's neck, like a noose. It is doomed to fail.

They do it anyway.

The treaty is signed in one of his fortress, and Sweden wonders if that makes it any more his fault.

.

(1448, _Engelbrektsupproret - Engelbrekt Rebellion_)

His nobility are not happy, and want to break away from Denmark. Too loud, too violent, too quick to lead them to war. Never thinking about the consequences.

Sweden is not happy either.

Denmark's smiles are a common thing, as sure as midnight suns. Yet somehow it always manages to catch him by surprise, a quick inhalation of breath whenever the other nation turns his way and stuns him with the sight.

They are both at fault. It is uncomfortable looking at Denmark so Sweden avoids it as much as possible, and Denmark never turns to smile specifically at Sweden. He smiles at Norway, as he pulls the other along. He smiles at the world.

Denmark is a leader so he leads and expects Sweden to follow after, so perhaps it is forgivable that he has become overly familiar with the sight of the other's back, walking away from him.

(Perhaps he is being silly and there's really nothing to forgive at all.)

.

(1520, _Stockholms blodbad - Stockholm Bloodbath_)

The humans are full of strange concepts and ideas, but they are interesting, and there is the slightest possibility they are right. The idea of names, for instance, and the concept of metaphors.

Birka is where his first churches were built, and the humans fancy that it hangs as a cross hidden beneath his cloak.

Lödöse is a trading town on his western coast that the humans call his left hand, entwined in someone else's. Sometimes Norway. Sometimes Denmark. But rarely Finland.

Vänern and Vättern, lakes frosted in winter, the humans call his eyes.

And Stockholm, which is besieged and beguiled by Denmark, which in the autumn of 1520, is left bleeding by him– Stockholm, the humans call his heart.

.

(1645, _Trettioåriga kriget - Thirty Years' War_)

He remembers war. He remembers war while he is at war, the pounding of blood in his ears, the feel of splinters working through leather and into his palms.

He remembers loss. He remembers humiliation.

(Denmark smiling as he strokes a thumb over his cheek, too firm to be gentle, grinding dirt into his wound. But he rarely loses to Denmark anymore.)

It is maddening, looking at him. It is refreshing, finally seeing him. His eyes and his smile, and Sweden's fist punching him in his face.

(There is an emotion he wants to express but he's never been very good with words.)

.

(1648, _Westfaliska freden - Peace of Westphalia_)

There are reprieves. Moments between battles, when he looks at the Finland and into his eyes and at their shifting colors in the sun and feels – at peace.

There is none of the turmoil that comes with looking at Denmark, none of the ache that comes with being with him.

There is stillness and silence, like a cloudless winter day. And a sensation that creeps, which he doesn't know what to name.

So he borrows the humans' words again. Their conceptions.

"Love ya," he tells Finland, when the other is asleep, and it doesn't sound like a lie.

.

(1658, _Freden i Roskilde - Peace of Roskilde_)

His lips have been twitching spasmodically throughout the day. Finland looks at him as if Sweden has lost his mind, or as if Sweden is losing his mind, or as if he would very much like to find a safe hiding spot before Sweden has officially lost his mind.

Sweden ends up giving Finland a mug of _sahti_against his better judgment so the other boy will calm down enough to sit near him.

They spend the afternoon in clumsy companionship, Finland taking modest swigs out of his mug and Sweden trying to work his lips out of the awkward stiffness they've frozen into.

"Are you…" Finland asks, peering closely, "_smiling?_" There is an expression of vague horror on his face.

Sweden considers before nodding once, stiffly.

"_Oh-kay_, okay, maybe, do you think it's the land we just gained? Like, one of them decided to take over the representation of your mouth or something? I mean, I think I've heard of something like this happening. Back when Estonia first started coming to the house, his right hand was so numb that it took three months before he was–" Finland cuts himself off, as if only just realizing what he's said, but when he ducks his head it's more out of shame than fear. "So it makes sense," his voice teeters out. "Kind of."

"Hm," Sweden hums, and Finland takes it as an invitation to return to a half-maintained eye-contact, staring at Sweden's face as if it's the most mind-boggling thing he's ever seen in the world.

It's cute, and more than a little amusing. Sweden has never seen Finland so flustered before.

His lips twitch even more.

"Ah, _please don't do that_! Or, well, I'm not telling to not smile. Just let me get used to it first. I've only just started getting used to the usual Sve, I don't want you suddenly changing on me!"

Sweden tries to school his lips into a gentle slope and Finland looks slightly more relieved, or at the very least, marginally less horrified.

It looks a little strained, but Finland smiles back at him.

.

(1718, _Norska Fälttåg - Norwegian campaign_)

But it isn't enough.

Something, he thinks, eventually, will be. Maybe this will be it.

"Why are you here?" Norway asks, but that word is entirely too pleasant to capture the chill of his words. He stands on the ramparts of Fredriksten with a gun in hand, cocked and aimed at Sweden's head.

"To take you," Sweden says. To take you from him. It'd be enough like revenge to be worth it. But he doesn't explain any further because Norway does not care for his words.

"No," Norway says, and fires.

.

(1809, _Freden i Fredrikshamn - Treaty of Fredrikshamn_)

Sweden realizes this: his hands are cold. Gloves are good, for taking the bite off the chill. They are better for preventing his nails from breaking his skin.

"I am," Finland says, and Sweden fills in the pause. _I am sorry_. _I am sad_. _I am going, now_.

Finland doesn't finish the thought.

Sweden catches Finland's hands in his own, because even through the gloves he likes to fancy the feel of the other's body warmth. _I am sorry. I am sad_.

"Let go, da?" Russia chortles, like a brother scolding a younger sibling. His hand curls over Finland's shoulder, large enough to engulf it. Finland shivers, and it is not from the cold.

"The boy is not yours, anymore."

_I am going, now._

And there is silence so loud it is buzzing. He feels the creeping in his heart. He hears ringing in the distance.

(Ringing, ringing: this is something he never forgets. Denmark's laughter along his coasts and even now he dreams of it, boisterous to the point of obscenity, familiar to the point of discomfort. Denmark's laughter like his hands, always reaching for him, always stifling him, dragging him towards the newest battle or treaty or political decision. Hands that were like furnaces clasped over his own, and they shared a heartbeat through their palms.)

Sweden stands, long after Finland and Russia have left, rubbing his hands together over and over again. They are cold, and he cannot feel a heartbeat through his gloves.

.

(1814, _Freden i Kiel - Treaty of Kiel_)

One house is just as good as another, just as lonely as another.

One companion should be the same.

Denmark is not smiling as he clasps Norway's hands, fierce enough to constrain but not hard enough to bruise.

It is unfair, Sweden thinks, and Norway echoes the sentiment with his eyes. It is unfair, and the reasons for this are probably his fault.

But this is one step towards somewhere he wants to reach, or one step away from something he wants to escape, or these are just things he is telling himself to keep walking.

It does not matter either way. Does not stop him from taking Norway's hands into his own, consciously not touching Denmark's as he does so. Does not stop him from turning as soon as the negotiations are over. From walking away without looking at Denmark, without looking at Norway to confirm that the other is not doing the same.

It's almost like revenge, but that doesn't stop the feeling that it still isn't enough.

.

(1905, _Unionsupplösningen - __Union Dissolution_)

It goes as well as to be expected, though that statement should be cast in the negative and dyed in nihilism. It goes as well as it could have.

Sweden bleeds, because the rebels' blades are sharp but Norway's words are sharper, with ten flavors of condemnation in every breath he breathes.

"Look at you," Norway says, "looking at him." And the worst thing is that Sweden has always thought they were similar. Not in their traits but in their absences (_and what is it that we lack?_).

"Look at how you chase after him, or goad him into chasing after you. It is," Norway pauses, and there are ten beats towards a confession, "pathetic."

"And yer any diff'rent?" Sweden asks. Watches the way Norway's eyes desublimate into hoar frost.

"I do not need him, in any form," Norway says, and there is an absence of inflection that is colder than any bitterness. (How lonely would it be, Sweden thinks, if they were to become mutually indifferent. But he does not know how to say _I don't want to lose you_without it sounding like something it isn't.)

"I have my coins. My government and laws. I have my fjords and my forests. I have my spirits. And I will have Island," Norway says, and there is power in his voice as only a nation should have, "just as I will have myself."

He pauses, just long enough to take a breath. "But you Sverige, what do you have?"

Silence. Silence and discontentment, but that is all their union has been.

"We are not good for each other," Norway says quietly, looking away, and for anyone else it would have been an apology.

.

(1940, _Statsrådsdiktamen - Prime Dictation_)

"This is…all?" Finland asks, voice wavering at the edges. He tries to smile but it lacks substances, collapsing back onto itself.

It means something that Finland had asked Sweden for help, just as it means something that Sweden cannot provide it. Not the type of help that Finland needs, for the battles he has to fight, that they may have once fought together.

"S'rry," Sweden says, and if it were two centuries ago he would kneel on his knees and take Finland's hands into his own, but there is snow on the ground and crystals lining Finland's gloves and Sweden's thinks that if he touched either of them he'd probably bleed. "This's all I can do."

"It's okay…I understand," Finland says, and tries smiling again, but this time it doesn't even appear on his face. He lowers his head so Sweden can't see his eyes.

"Actually, no, I'm sorry, I don't. I really don't understand."

"S'rry," Sweden mutters again, like it's supposed to make up for something.

Sweden feels like he's breaking the silence just by breathing vapor into the air. Finland's breath has already grown as cold as the surroundings, so it's almost as if he's not breathing at all.

They could stay like this, Sweden thinks. They could stay like this, until the sky froze above them and the earth died beneath them and they were captured in portrait within a graceless peace. Or he wishes they could.

"Wish I loved ya more," Sweden says. Because Finland deserves at least that much.

Finland looks at him, then. His smile is a small thing, humorless and bitterless. It is the kindest smile Sweden has ever seen.

"I wish that, too," Finland says.

.

(1943, _Räddningen av de danska judarna - Rescue of the Danish Jews_)

"You're a hypocrite, you know," Denmark grins, leaning on a concrete bunker, "building these fortifications when you say you don't want to be part of the war."

They are on Scania's coast and Scania's soil and Denmark should not be here. Sweden's neutrality is nothing if not a declaration of mutual indifference towards the world. Or it should have been.

"Either that or you're a coward."

Denmark's words are accusing but his voice is light, his smile almost reaching his eyes. This is a different sort of war than all the wars that have ever happened, different than any war they've ever fought, and Sweden thinks it might have made Denmark a little bit insane. The whole world is insane, and caught in the eye of the swirling madness Sweden almost wants to try smiling back.

"Thanks," Denmark says, suddenly, before Sweden can think of a response. "I mean – really, thanks for taking them all in. I didn't have anywhere else to send them."

Where else in the world might they be safe? Neutrality is one thing, but he would not send eight thousand of Denmark's Jewish to their deaths. He wonders if the Denmark thought he would, if that is why Denmark is thanking him. He cannot think of many other nations who would.

The world is not happy with him, on either side, but he is not happy with it either. He has not been happy with it for a while.

"Yer the one who did all th' work," Sweden mutters, as Denmark moves to clasp his shoulder and he moves to get away. He does not know how the other man can be so stupid, how he can be so brave. Denmark's smile does not falter, even if his balance does.

"You've changed," Denmark says, as volatile as always, and Sweden has to touch him anyway, just to make sure he doesn't fall. "The way you speak. The way you smile. Scania, Scania, that must have been it. I have kept you from your smile."

"Yer not well," Sweden grunts, hauling Denmark to his feet, but the other man is not terribly interested in catching his balance and simply sprawls in his arms.

"I'll return it," Denmark says, his eyes full of promises, stupid and conceited as he must, and in this world without hope, Sweden almost believes him.

.

(1945, _Op. Rädda Danmark - Operation Save Denmark_)

There are plans. Strategies. Equipment. Men who were trained. It would have been enough to save him, if the war had not ended first.

He never shows them the Denmark, wouldn't even if he asked. He does not want to confess anything.

.

(2000, _Öresundsbron - Øresund Bridge_)

"So?" Denmark grins, and Sweden grunts, "So?"

"It's a night for celebration," Denmark declares, sloshing something alcoholic in his direction. "So you should be celebrating."

"Think yer doin' nuff of that for both of us."

Denmark is, half drunk on just the fact that the bridge has been completed. The Øresund Bridge, from Copenhagen to Scania, which he'd crossed himself, just to bother Sweden on home ground.

The alcohol has only made Denmark worse.

"Copenhagen," Denmark declares, ever caught in his eminence even as he teeters dangerously to the side, "is _everything_. It's my heart and my soul, so it's where the bridge starts."

Sweden wishes the other Nordics were there with them, to provide a secondary outlet to Denmark's enthusiasm, if nothing else. But Norway had declared that _he_wasn't going to willingly subject himself to a drunken Anko and Iceland had quietly agreed. Finland had just smiled, said he didn't want to interfere with their private celebration.

Sweden sighs and rests his cheek on his palm, resigning himself to spending the night listening to Denmark's ramblings.

"- it's my lips, like Scania is yours."

He doesn't even know where the other man got that impression, but he's almost sure of what Denmark is hinting at, sliding his gaze sidelong to meet Denmark's. Except it's ridiculous, right up until it isn't.

"From my lips to yours," Denmark says, toasting the bridge with his laughter, and he seals it with a kiss.

It's a human thing, Sweden thinks, but sometimes they are too human. Mostly he isn't thinking at all, too stunned to even respond.

"Ah," says Denmark, pulling away, "I told you I'd return your smile."

Better his heart, but Sweden cannot find the words.

It's the shock from realizing that he might be in love with the man which causes Sweden to accept Denmark's next offered tankard. Or twelve. Some number in the double digits which is enough to get him thoroughly sloshed.

This does not help, as it only makes him realize that he has been in love with the man his entire life.

Denmark stays all of the next morning, poking fun at his misery with his laughter ringing in Sweden's hung-over ears, and Sweden, after everything, is too tired to ask him to leave.

(Still, it surprises him when Denmark doesn't.)

* * *

_.: Let me confess: I've always wanted to smile together with you :._

* * *

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Historical notes (many blatant rip-offs of text from Wikipedia... I'm not a very historically-minded person, and all Swedish translations were the result of searching the Swedish Wiki; actual links are on the LJ version)

**(1)_ Viking Age _(c. 700–1100)** – during the Viking Age Denmark and Norway headed west while Sweden headed south and east

"a world that is flat" – The ancient Norse people believed in a flat earth cosmography of the earth surrounded by an ocean, with the axis mundi (a world-tree: Yggdrasil) in the centre.

**(2) _Treaty of Nöteborg_ (1323)** – in which Finland's eastern border was drawn for the first time between Sweden and Novgorod (part of Russia); a.k.a. when Sweden gained full custody of Finland = when Finland become his wife

As for names:

_Österland_ – Swedish name for Finland (lit. Eastern Land)

_Suomi_ – Finnish for Finland

_Finn_ – Among the first documents to mention Finland are two rune-stones. There is one in the Swedish province Uppland, with the inscription _finlonti_ and one in Gotland, in the Baltic Sea, with the inscription _finlandi_, the latter dating from the 13th century. (Finland = Land of the Finns)

**(3) _Black Death _(1346–1350)** – struck Scandinavia 1348-1350, hitting Norway first.

Norway lost about 1/2 of its population, while Sweden, Finland, and Denmark lost about 1/3. Or 1/2. Probably closer to 1/3. Actually the same might have been true for Norway. A bit fuzzy on the statistics since they_ can't seem to agree._ Comes with a lack of good demographics for the time period.

Norway and Sweden shared the same king at the time (1319-1355)

**(4) _Kalmar Union _(1397–1523)** – united Denmark, Norway, and Sweden under a single monarch. Signed in the Swedish castle of Kalmar. It was supposed to be an "eternal union". It wasn't.

"a round table so all could sit as equals..." – King Arthur's knights of the round (from the 5th/6th c.)

"yellow embellished with a red Nordic cross" – Kalmar Union's flag. Ostensibly. (No surviving flags exist, so reconstructions are based purely on textual evidence.)

**(5) _Engelbrekt Rebellion_ (1434-1436)** – rebellion led by Swedish nobleman Engelbrekt Engelbrektsson against Eric of Pomerania, the king of the Kalmar Union. It resulted in the deposing of Eric as well as erosion of the union.

**(6) _Stockholm Bloodbath _(1520)** – a series of events taking place between November 7 and November 9 in 1520, climaxing on the 8th, when around 80-90 people (mostly nobility and clergy supporting the Sture party) were executed, despite a promise by King Kristian for general amnesty.

**(7) _Thirty Years' War_ (1618-1648)** – Sweden and Denmark-Norway fought on opposing sides 1643-1645; about the time Sweden was emerging as a great power

**(8)_ Peace of Westphalia _(1648**) – ended the Thirty Years' War; part of the result was the rise of the Swedish Empire

**(9) _Peace of Roskilde_ (1658)** – conclusion of the Second Northern War between Sweden and Denmark-Norway, which ended in Swedish victory; Denmark-Norway ended up ceding half of its land to Sweden, including the province of Scania (which now makes up the lowest part of Sweden)…there'd be further conflicts over Scania though, and otherwise rocky relations.

_sahti_ – a traditional beer from Finland

Swedish Estonia – arose when the northern parts of present-day Estonia were united under Swedish rule in 1561 (this was actually part of a comic ^^)

**(10) _Norwegian Campaign _(1716-1718)** – during the Great Northern War King Charles attacked Norway (initially in lieu of Copenhagen, as the ice melted before he could launch the attack on Denmark); Charles was shot and killed at Fredriksten in 1718, ending the campaign

**(11) _Treaty of Fredrikshamn_ (1809**) – conclusion of the Finnish War between Sweden and Russia, which ended in Russian victory; Finland was ceded to Russia, and the overzealous king who had lead Sweden into the disastrous war was overthrown

**(12) _Treaty of Kiel_ (1814)** – ended the hostilities between England, Sweden, and Denmark-Norway in the ongoing Napoleonic wars; Norway was ceded to Sweden in compensation for the earlier loss of Finland. Thus started the second Sweden-Norway union (1814-1905) which was… not the most harmonious one.

**(13) _Union Dissolution _(1905)** – dissolution of the union between Norway and Sweden after the divergence in their interests (economic, political, etc.) became apparent; supported by the majority of both nations

"I have my coins..." – Norway had retained its own independent laws, parliament, government, administration, church, army, and currency.

**(14) lit. _Prime dictation _(1940)** – Sweden's king Gustav V publicly rejected pleas from Finland's government for military intervention in the Winter War to help defend Finland against the Soviet invasion. There was strong Swedish public opinion advocating participation in the war, and at least 8000 Swedish soldiers volunteered, but more help had been expected.

**(15) _Rescue of the Danish Jews_ (1943)** – Germany officially dissolved the Danish government in 1943 and decided to remove all the Jews from Denmark; most of Denmark's Jewish population survived the Holocaust due to the Danish resistance movement evacuating them by sea to Sweden

_Skåne Line_ – a 500 kilometer long line of light fortifications erected during World War II around the coast of southern Sweden to protect the country from a possible German or Soviet invasion

**(16) _Operation Save Denmark_ (would have been 1945)** – Swedish plans to send troops to liberate eastern Denmark and the island Bornholm during the late phase of the war; ended up not being necessary as Germany surrendered before the operation would have commenced

**(17) _Øresund Bridge_ (opened 2000)** – bridge connecting Copenhagen, Denmark and Malmö, Sweden [in Scania]; the Oresund Bridge was designed by the Danish architectural practice Dissing Weitling


End file.
